Raven's Wing Poetry » beauty

Your Voice

ravenswingpoetry — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 21:23:30 +0000

Melting Time Sculpture taken by Black Coffee Blue Jeans

This was written for the Monday Mural Prompt on Poefusion. Enjoy.

-Nicole

————————————————–
Your voice is a soft bed with clean
sheets. I can sleep in it. I can dream
in it. I could drift away in the sea of
your songs, the currents of your sonic
rivers.

Your voice gives me chills. Nightmares
and dreams in stereophonic luster playing,
bitter and sweet traveling through
headphone cords.

Your voice makes my heart bleed. It stops
clocks. It makes angels pause and men
cry. It makes the Universe

halt

and hang there, suspended, warbling.

Your voice is a footprint stamped onto
time itself, static – yet it stretches even
beyond the borders of the time-space
continuum and mocks the idea that
it could ever be restrained by our
asinine notion of containing moments,
people, and voices inside clocks and
calendars.

Your voice hangs on my ears. I wear
your lyrics for earrings. Diamonds
stand and scream in envy of the sight.
They know that they could never hope
to compete with the resplendent beauty
of your words hanging on my ears.

Your voice sometimes encircles my
neck with icy fingers, choking me
with surprise at your dark emotions
and images but leaving me breathless,
panting, wanting more – and I am a
masochist to the core. I cannot stop
listening.

Your voice has launched countless
ships of fools – motley poets, song
writers, and bands who hear the siren
song of music, beauty, and pain. They
launch their stars into the night sky,
adding to yours and growing into
wickedly wild sparkling constellations.

And I send up my star along with them.

Written 9/16/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

Stumble It!

Masterpiece

ravenswingpoetry — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 18:28:35 +0000

Painting by CrzyCowgal046

I’m a little late for Monday Mural, but the image was so inspiring…that I wrote this poem for it. Enjoy.

-Nicole

—————————————————-

I would caress
her soft, painted back now
but I would ruin the art
before my hungry eyes

she posed for me
against stucco bearing
midnight blue and rojo
village scenes

her back
aching for a voice
so I gave her six strings
to sing about

anything

so she sang about love
she sang about wearing
white flowers in her hair
at the tip-top of midnight

and posing bare backed
for a brand new stranger

who finds that the swanlike curves
of a woman’s neck
can wear a painted fretboard
like nobody’s business

and mi corazon
is about to explode

but I don’t mind dying
in the cool shadows of this
midnight

as long as she
is the last thing my tired
eyes see

and the last thing
my brushes and pigments
sing about in loud, livid color

Stumble It!

Your Name

ravenswingpoetry — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 20:13:36 +0000

Mahadev
Means “Great Lord” -
A Sanskrit pronunciation
Of the man
About to stand
Before your eyes;
But some anonymous bastard
Decided to bastardize
Your name
And reduce it to some
Common, ordinary junk
Called Maday
Without any color
Or sound.
But I’ve found
The forgotten beauty
Almost erased by a British stamp
Lingering in three simple
Syllables -
Mahadev.

Arizona, Remembered

ravenswingpoetry — Sun, 02 Mar 2008 02:02:04 +0000

Red rocks stand in regiment lines
Against God’s painted skies;
For desert beauty my mind’s eye pines,
For canyons wrinkled like the wise
And grand rouge stands in childhood eyes.
His paintbrush dances on rocky faces -
I yearn for those exquisite places.

Beholder’s eye seeks beauty ‘round
And I spy God’s creation grand -
Within me, wonder, and joy profound,
For He holds all in His Hands.
Spilt rainbows wash through Arizona land
From pale peach sand to green scrub trees -
Such beauty brings me to my knees.

Now, years are stamped upon my face;
In my hair, silver veins rise.
In memory solid, a photograph’s placed -
I don’t forget those clear blue skies
Nor the love of parents in childhood eyes.
Fond memory dances on sepia faces -
My mind journeys to exquisite places.